


when i see your light shine, i know i'm home

by columbusohio



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, M/M, POV Second Person, this one hurts a lil but ends up okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 05:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16528229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/columbusohio/pseuds/columbusohio
Summary: For the first time since he was seven years old, Josh is lost.





	when i see your light shine, i know i'm home

**Author's Note:**

> thinking about continuing my tdc fic and i wrote this as a jump back into the bowl, lemme know if it's shit or not!  
> title from we're going home by vance joy  
> enjoy! xoxo

For the first time since you were seven years old, you’re lost. 

Even in the darkest of times, when there was no light to guide you home,  _ he  _ was there. He was your home, he was your light, he brought you back to where you needed to be. He grounded you more than anything or anyone. 

When you broke your arm in the sixth grade, he visited you in the hospital and was the first one to sign your cast. He knows your favorite movies and where you’re ticklish at. He can decipher exactly what you’re feeling without you saying a single word. When you got your first tattoo, he held your hand. When you got your second one, and your third, and your fourth, he held it then too. He is the first and only person you’ve ever been in love with. 

So when you hear him say the words you could never imagine leaving his mouth, you crumble. The world stops spinning, the oceans freeze, the birds all drop out of the sky. Breathing isn’t an option and he’s saying something else- he’s reaching out to touch you but it’s too much. He’s too much. The air is sucked out of you and you clutch your shirt to make sure you aren’t imagining the fact your lungs are grasping at straws. 

“Josh. Josh, can you hear me?” He’s trying so hard. The plea sounds so  _ wrong  _ coming out of his vocal chords. Your eyes go in and out of focus, you can just make out your shaking hands moving to hold the wall. 

“Can’t- I can’t breathe.” You choke out. This is so foreign but so familiar at the same time. You never thought he’d be the one to end it. You never thought it would end. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear last year at the music festival you camped out for. He said he couldn’t wait to marry you. 

What the fuck is this? When did they get to this point? You can’t pinpoint a downfall and you’re so, so lost. You want to come back home, but you don’t belong anymore. You feel gentle hands in between your shoulder blades and your first reaction is to flinch. You don’t belong, you don’t belong, you don’t belong. Those hands will never be yours to hold again. 

He clears his throat, he’s choked up. This hurts him, and you wonder why he’s doing it. He wants to move on, to leave Columbus, you know this. You already told him you’d follow wherever he needed to go. You’d be whatever he needed you to be. 

_ “That’s the problem, Josh. I need to be by myself now, I don’t need someone else.”  _

It hurts so bad. The ache in your chest is growing and he’s letting out quiet sobs now, forehead pressed against your back. You both belonged to each other long before you ever belonged to yourselves. You can’t remember a moment when you didn’t know his skin and he didn’t know exactly how to make your coffee. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” 

Your lip trembles and your voice comes out broken, “Then why are you doing it?” 

He shakes his head, dropping his hands. He takes a step back. “You know why.” 

You wish you didn’t. It’s so unfair to feel this much. You’re so tired already and it hasn’t even begun. The road without him isn’t much of a fucking road. The exhaustion hits and you fall to your knees. He’s leaving and there’s not a thing you can say to make him stay. 

“I’m sorry, Josh. I hate this.” His voice echoes off the walls of the apartment you share together. Shared. Past tense. He’s been sleeping at his parent’s house for the past month. There’s not a moment you don’t miss him. There’s not a day that goes by that you don’t think about the song he wrote you for Christmas when you were seventeen. The ten other songs he’s dedicated to you since then. 

“Me too.” You turn around to slump against the wall. Your eyelids have never felt heavier than in this moment, the energy completed drained from your body. This is his decision. “Just go, Tyler.” 

You’ve never had to watch him walk away from you before. You feel six years old again, in a time when you didn’t know his eyes yet. It’s the worst feeling and you realize you’re never going to love again. Not like this, never like this. He’s going to be your always, and you accept that the second he gives a reserved nod. 

He closes the door softly behind him, the situation settling in around you. He’s gone and he took everything you were with him. The shell remains, sitting on the hardwood of the living room. The bright sun of June mocks you. Your birthday is in a week, and you belatedly wonder if he knows that too. If he even cares. 

“Fuck.” You whisper to nothing, to no one. “Fuck!” 

You’re lost. 

 

-  
  


 

_ Tyler  _

_ Happy birthday, J. Here’s to twenty one. Good luck with everything. You know I love you.  _

The text is sitting on your phone when you wake up, sent at 4AM. You go through your entire day thinking, ‘He remembered, he remembered, he remembered.’ 

When you blow out your candles that night, you wish for one thing. 

_ Find your way back to me.  _

  
  


-

  
  


_ His lips press kiss after kiss into your neck, hips grinding down to find the spot inside of you that makes you see stars. The soft breathy moans linger in the air surrounding you both. It’s the night of your sixteenth birthday and everyone’s already gone to bed. Tyler was only allowed to stay over if he slept on the couch downstairs, but your parents knew he’d sneak up to your room anyways. They’d found you curled around each other in the morning more times than they could count.  _

_ “Ty.” You groan out, clutching at his shoulders. “I’m gonna.”  _

_ Tyler sucks a bruise into your collarbone, pushing into you harder and faster than before. “C’mon, let go. Wanna see you fall apart.”  _

_ That’s all it takes before you’re arching up, fingernails digging into his skin deep enough to leave marks to trace tomorrow. You don’t know how it could ever get better than this.  _

You wake up in a sweat, dick straining against the waistband of your boxer briefs. You glance at the time on your phone and slump back against your pillows when you read 2:47AM. 

At least it wasn’t a nightmare.   
  


 

-  
  
  


The haze of summer goes by quickly, you pick up extra shifts at the animal shelter and spend as much time away from your apartment as possible. You meet up for drinks with your friends at least twice a week and call your mom more than necessary. It isn’t anything like you thought it would be. 

You expected crashing and burning, not being able to leave your bed, calling in sick to work for weeks until you finally just quit. You expected the pain to envelope every nerve in your body until you just simply stopped existing. A standstill. 

Instead, you’re running. You prefer it this way because it gives you less time to think. The pain can’t touch you if it can’t find you. You don’t give up enough time to drown in everything that’s missing in your life now. 

You keep the pictures of him up, don’t put anything in the empty drawers he left behind. You don’t delete his profile off of the Netflix account, and you continue following him on Twitter. You still wear the clothes that belonged to him once upon a time. You wonder if he kept yours. 

Pretending nothing is wrong, that nothing has changed, is working out for you. You fill the hole in your chest with good company and rescue puppies. The days blend together.

_ @tylerrjoseph _

_ in Exeter, England. Xbox One power supply broke. anyone near here able to let me borrow one?  _

You blink at the tweet. He’s in England. Fucking England. When he said he needed to leave, you figured he’d explore New York, Los Angeles, maybe even Canada.  _ England.  _ He’s not even on the same continent as you. You feel pathetic sitting in the uncomfortable campus library chair. Your bubble is popped. What does Columbus have on England? Nothing. Not a dime. 

A part of you is jealous he actually did it. You’re back in classes, not even knowing why. Musicians drop out of college or aren’t musicians. 

_ England.  _

You feel a headache coming on. 

  
  


-

  
  


She picks up on the second ring, never too busy on a Saturday morning. You scratch your bare stomach before reaching up to grab the box of cereal out of the cabinet. 

“What are you doing up so early?” She greets, nothing patronizing in her voice, just genuine curiosity. You gather a bowl and the milk from the fridge, placing it on the countertop. It’s only 7:30, and you realize how she’s valid in her question. 

“Figured i’d go on a run and then swing by your house for lunch. Are you going to be home?” You ask, scooping fruity pebbles into your mouth. “If not, it’s okay.” 

“No, no, don’t worry! I don’t have any plans today, I can whip up that pasta you like?” A smile stretches across your face. England doesn’t have Laura Dun. 

She’s been quiet since he left, not asking too many questions and letting you figure out your shit on your own. She still meets up with Kelly every Wednesday for brunch, so you know she knows more than you do. But she doesn’t say a word, and you’re grateful. You don’t know how you’d react if you found out he doesn’t ask after you. 

You agree on a time and say a goodbye before hanging up, finishing your cereal.

After lunch, you head straight to the tattoo parlor. It has to be one of the most stupid decisions you’ve ever made, but at the same time, you’re content with it. It’s goofy but sentimental, and your mom will love it. 

Your usual artist has an opening in two hours, so you walk across the street to sit in the coffee shop until then. 

_ @joshuadun  _

_ had lunch with my mom and she made my favorite pasta. have an appointment to tattoo the word ‘mom’ on my forehead.  _

You scroll through your timeline, liking tweets that describe your friend’s day or a wild encounter they had at Target earlier in the week. A notification pops up at the bottom of your screen and you can’t help the way your heart leaps. 

_ @tylerrjoseph liked your tweet  _

You take a deep breath, willing your leg to stop bouncing. It’s been three months. You haven’t gone this long without seeing his face since you were a kid. You’re scared and nervous and sad and happy that he liked your damn tweet. Don’t fall apart in a Starbucks, don’t fall apart in a Starbucks. 

You’re breathing evens out just as another notification lights up your phone. 

_ @tylerrjoseph has sent you a Direct Message  _

Your fingers scramble to open it, even after all of these days telling yourself you don’t miss him. You miss him so much your bones feel like breaking every second you aren’t near him. His first job was at the local coffee shop down the road from your parent’s neighborhood. He used his first paycheck to buy you a record player. 

_ josh, you better not tattoo your forehead  _

_ that would be awful  _

_ definitely not punk. more wannabe soundcloud rapper  _

_ but seriously. if i come back and your forehead is tattooed i’m gonna lose my shit _

The smile on your face is unintentional but so welcomed. You realize how many smiles you’ve been faking once you give into a real one. You love him so much. Your replies are calm, steady. He makes your heart content. 

_ the forehead may have been a lie, but the mom thing wasn’t  _

_ still gonna lose your shit if i get the stereotypical mom banner over a heart on my bicep? _

A couple minutes tick by before he messages back, and the tea you ordered has gone cold. 

_ you’re a fucking dork. i’m about to get on my plane, but remember not to tense up  _

_ see you soon, j  _

You struggle to keep your grip on your phone. He’s coming back. Tears find their way to your eyes and you swallow down the lump in your throat. You blink away the dampness and shake your head. He’s on his way back, he’s coming back. 

Tyler’s coming home. 

  
  


-

  
  


“In all of my years, i’m surprised i’ve never done one like this.” Your tattoo artist chuckles, wiping excess ink off of your bicep, tattoo gun in her other hand. “It takes dedication, that’s for sure. A true momma’s boy.” 

You smile, “One hundred percent. She’s done a lot for me, I owe her everything. If I can start by giving her a cheesy tattoo, why not?” 

“I like the way you think.” She winks at him and continues to work on the outline of the heart. 

Once the tattoo is finished and wrapped up, you head back to your apartment. The hours are ticking down to something important, you can feel it. The breeze in the September air is buzzing around you. The world looks brighter, softer around the edges, like the clouds are being injected with purpose. Breathing is so easy. 

  
  


-

  
  


The knock on your door is what wakes you. You roll out of bed in basketball shorts and the plastic wrap around your arm on full display with the lack of a shirt. The knocking gets louder and you groan. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” You pad through the hallway, stopping to push the button on the thermostat. It is way too cold for autumn. 

When you swing the door open, you honestly weren’t sure what you had expected. A jetlagged Tyler Joseph in joggers and a red adidas jacket certainly wasn’t it. His suitcase sits besides him and he’s still holding his passport in his hand. 

You don’t even think twice about it before wrapping your arms around him. He immediately returns the gesture, squeezing around your middle. He buries his nose in your neck and breathes in. You do the same in his hair that’s grown out to the fluff you’ve always adored. He’s in your arms and you’re never letting him go again. 

“ _ Josh _ .” His voice is everything you’ve ever needed in life. “Josh, fuck. I’ve missed you so much.” 

You squeeze tighter, letting your hands roam under his jacket. No rollercoaster could ever compare to the thrill of holding the person you want for the rest of your life in your arms. There’s nothing better than the feeling of your blood settling in your veins, of feeling whole again. You didn’t comprehend how much of you he took until he brought it back. 

“Don’t leave again, please.” You don’t mean for your voice to come out so quiet and begging.

Tyler shakes his head as much as the position will allow, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere without you.” 

_ without you.  _

You pull back to cup his jaw, looking into his eyes. “Do you mean that?” 

Tyler’s breath hitches, “Of course I mean that. Europe wasn’t worth it without you by my side. I missed our couch.” 

“Our couch is old and lumpy.” 

He smiles, “Exactly. It’s ours.” 

You take a second to digest all of his features. His eyelashes, his chapped lips, the hint of stubble on his chin. He’s still the same Tyler you fell in love with, just more thinned out and confident in the way he holds himself. He’s everything that’s been haunting your sleep for the past twelve weeks. Your thumb reaches up to run down his nose, to settle over his mouth. 

Tyler puckers his lips in a kiss, the first one that’s touched your skin in so, so long. You move your finger to the side and lean in to capture him in a proper kiss. You could spend the next forty eight hours attached to his mouth. That’d be just fine. 

Tyler pulls back but only to bring his suitcase into the hallway and shut the door. Once he’s done that, his hands and lips are back on yours. You don’t plan on stopping anytime soon and apparently, neither does he. 

The entire day is spent like that, skin touching skin and wandering fingertips familiarizing themselves with bodies they’ve known for over a decade. You couldn’t ask for anything more. 

Your home found his way back. 

 


End file.
